


Let It Out

by AbsinthexMind



Series: Oh brother where art thou [17]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Death, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Incest, Incest, Revenge, Sibling Incest, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-02 04:39:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14536857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbsinthexMind/pseuds/AbsinthexMind
Summary: Every time (y/n) entered the same room as him, Jon felt all the air leave his lungs. She always seemed to command all the attention in the room with her gray eyes that could strike anyone dead if she so desired. Yet he found himself aching for the sister she had once been. That was the one he had fallen for.





	Let It Out

“Robb?” 

“Hm?” 

“Do you love me?” 

Robb rolls his Tully blue eyes. “Of course I do. What kind of question is that? You should know that by now.” 

Your fingers trace along the curvature of his cheek to his jaw. Thumb grazing against his plump, bottom lip that begged to be between your teeth. “How much do you love me?” 

That makes him chuckle as he pulls you closer to his chest. “You spoiled girl.” 

“That’s not answering my question.” In a faux grumpy voice you pout yet nuzzle your nose against his warm, exposed throat. You would’ve sucked at the tender flesh had you not been exhausted. If you proceeded with the action Robb would definitely have his way with you again. You were still drained from the previous sessions. 

With his chin on top of our head he hums in thought. The night was exceptionally quiet with only the chirps of crickets serenading the dark. A few bannermen could be heard laughing in the distance but it was faint. The direwolves stood watch outside your tent to make sure no one intruded on your time with Robb. If anyone were to find the two of you in such a state. . . You didn’t want to think of what would happen. The Freys were already upset because Robb refused to marry his intended. When he saw you crying over the fact that you would lose him, Robb had decided then and there that he would go back on his word. No matter how you pleaded with him that you would be alright nothing was worth making you cry in Robb’s eyes. He had vowed long ago that he would never make you cry. That he would give you everything your heart desired. Underneath the giant weirwood tree with its bleeding eyes that watched as you and your brother promised to one another things that could never be. 

He leans his lips down to your ear and whispers. . .   
  
  
  
***   
  
  
  


You didn’t want to wake up. You wanted to stay in the dream, in a world where Robb was still alive. Desperately you try to fall back, to hear what he had to say. You wanted to hear his voice again. To feel his warmth against your skin. The real world had a tight grip on you though and viciusly ripped you away to where you were forced to open your eyes and look forlornly at the empty space beside you. 

There were no more tears left in you to cry as your fingers clung to nothing. 

Robb was dead. 

Your soulmate, your heart, he was gone. Robb had been your everything. The two of you had never been apart from one another since your conception. Your mother had always told you when Robb was born that he didn’t stop crying until the moment Catelyn pushed you out as well. The very second he heard your cries Robb stopped his own and was silent. You had been a surprise. Ned and Cat hadn’t been expecting twins. They hadn’t anticipated the intense bond that you and Robb would share. 

It had been a blessing and a curse. 

A knock at your door has your massive direwolf, Storm, lift her head. From her side profile that you were able to see showed an empty eye socket with scars around it. Storm had lost an eye during what would be known as the Red Wedding while protecting you and ultimately saving your life. One eye meant nothing to her though. She still remained a terror to your enemies. She fought alongside you in the Battle of the Bastards and smashed any foe who tried to kill either of you. You had been the only woman on the battlefield and proved more terrifying than any man there. There had been no emotion on your face as you slaughtered the Bolton army. For what Ramsay and Roose had done to your family they deserved no mercy. You had earned your nickname ‘the Cold Wolf’ for a good reason. Being the Cold Wolf helped you earn the title of Queen in the North. 

“Come in.” You mutter, barely audible but you already knew who it was. 

Sansa opens the door, a few handmaid's behind her. “It’s unusual for you to sleep in this late.” 

“I’m queen. I can do what I want.” Feet to the ground you stand; Storm rising along with you. 

It had taken Sansa quite a while to get used to the new you. The memories she had of you were filled with your smiling face, your giggles as you went about your young life without a care in the world. It shocked her to the core when she saw you for the first time in years. You were a stranger. A complete change from the fresh faced young maiden you had once been. A Cold Wolf you were. There was a dangerous look in your eyes that made Sansa uneasy. Despite your emotionless state you had been a good queen so far. You were uniting the north, working hard to heal the wounds that the Lannister, Freys and Boltons had caused. You would deal with the Lannisters and Freys after you dealt with the threat beyond the wall. 

“It’s just a little worrisome. . .” Her eyes that reminded you so much of Robb’s flick downward to her hands before meeting your gaze. You wonder what slander Baelish had been whispering in her ear about you. That man was no good. “Jon wants to discuss the next steps on defeating the white walkers.” 

Like everyone else you had once thought them to be only stories that your father told. You believed Jon though. He had no reason to lie to you. Even if you did really want to rip Cersei’s throat out with your bare teeth and disembowel Walder Frey you knew your father and Robb would’ve wanted you to protect the north first and foremost. As long as Cersei didn’t try to make an attack on you you would focus on the threat in the north. 

Someday you would eradicate all of the golden lions as you had done with the flayed man of house Bolton. 

You grab your heavy winter cloak, draping it over your scarred shoulders as Storm pads beside you.   
  
  
  
*   
  
  
  


Every time (y/n) entered the same room as him, Jon felt all the air leave his lungs. She always seemed to command all the attention in the room with her gray eyes that could strike anyone dead if she so desired. Yet he found himself aching for the sister she had once been. That was the one he had fallen for. Yes, he had lost his heart, all rationality to his own sister. That smiling girl that would twirl around him in the snow. The one that would lovingly hug him from behind despite the size difference and plant her supple lips on his cheek. Jon felt wretched for even entertaining such a forbidden feeling. A love that was far from brotherly. The years living at Winterfell alongside her had been both pain and pleasure. Even after living at Castle Black and among the wildlings, Jon couldn’t stop himself from thinking about her. 

When he heard of the Red Wedding, Jon wept for Robb but nearly lost himself over (y/n). Imagining that sweet girl mercilessly slaughtered was too much for him. Endless were his nightmares. Even with Ygritte he would wake up screaming because he had dreamt of his sister’s death. He never uttered a word about it to the red haired wildling. Incest was taboo even among wildlings. 

Then a miracle happened. 

(y/n) was alive. 

Alive and hungry for blood. 

She trailed her path from the Riverlands with the corpses of Frey, Lannister, and Bolton soldiers combined. When she finally arrived to the north her entire demeanor had turned cold, her hands tainted with blood. The death of her twin brother and mother had killed the girl she once was. 

Cold and beautiful she stood in front of him with her large, gray, direwolf that even loomed over Ghost. 

“So, what have you come up with?” (y/n) seats herself in the chair that Eddard Stark had once occupied. Her fur cloak slowly slid off her shoulders revealing the deep scars on her neck and shoulders. Her clothing wasn’t exactly meant for the frigid winters of Winterfell yet the cold didn’t seem to phase her one bit. 

Running his tongue over his dry and chapped lips he unrolls a few scrolls while Ser Davos also has a book in his hands. A book that Jon’s good friend Samwell Tarly had once read. One that contained the secret of dragon glass. (y/n) listened patiently, eyes cast downward at their words. At first when Jon had brought up the white walkers he feared that (y/n) wouldn’t believe him, that she would turn away the idea and call him crazy. She believed him though after hearing the slight fear in Tormund’s voice and how even Jon quivered when recounting his story. 

(y/n) leans back in her throne. “Dragon glass.” Jon could tell by the way she at that she would rather be out in the battlefield ripping apart Cersei’s armies. Like a feral animal that couldn’t be domesticated. 

“Underneath Dragonstone are large deposits of them. Possibly as much as we could ever need.” Davos nods. 

“There’s only one problem. The Targaryen queen has settled herself at Dragonstone. Doubt she’ll gladly hand over the dragon glass to me.” There was annoyance in her tone. Long gone the war of the Five Kings; it was now the war of the Three Queens. She had taken Robb’s place in the game of thrones. 

Sansa piped in. “What about diplomacy? I don’t very much like the idea of mingling with her but it wouldn’t hurt for an alliance with her. For the meantime of course. The north is still healing. With the wildlings on our side we still don’t have sufficient manpower. She has three dragons and a large army.” 

It was a risky idea dealing with this Daenerys Targaryen. What else were they to do though? They needed dragon glass. Jon knew the risk but he didn’t know how much time they had. Winter was here. 

(y/n) and Storm share a look, as if they were communicating with a shared mind. They were so in tune with one another; nearly the same person. Storm flicked her ears back in some sort of response. Reluctantly (y/n) relented and informed him that there would be plans made to send a small envoy to Dragonstone. Jon, of course, being part of that envoy. He would go in place of (y/n). It might look as a slight but she couldn’t very well leave her land that was still recuperating. Plus her cold demeanor may not be exactly what they needed right now. Daenerys might be even less inclined to help an unsmiling queen that would sooner bare her teeth than curtsy to a foreigner. 

“Jon, I need to know that you won’t let this pretty face make you weak.” 

He flushes at her statement and gapes at his sister. “Wh-What?” 

(y/n) didn’t like repeating herself and he saw the twitch of aggravation. She always had more patience with her siblings though. Deep down past her wall that she put around herself, (y/n) still had a soft spot. A gentleness for her last remaining family. “I hear that this Queen Daenerys is quite a beauty. Don’t let her manipulate you.” Like one mind, (y/n) and Storm stand and begin to walk out of the great hall. 

Jon stutters, wanting her to come back so he could tell her that she didn’t have to worry about such a thing. That the only woman who had rule of his heart was her. He couldn’t very well say the last part though. He couldn’t say any of it as she brushed past them. Everyone in the hall knew where she was going. The place where she always went when she didn’t have any duties. The godswood. 

Sansa stares back to where her sister once sat. “Do you think she’ll ever be the same?” 

“Not without Robb.” Jon replied, a little bitter. (y/n) may have had a chance had only Robb survived. Ever since childhood Jon had known of the immense love the twins had had for one another. It was on an entirely different level than what siblings were supposed to feel. The first time Jon spied Robb and (y/n) kissing. . . a part of him didn’t feel as weird about his attraction for his sister. The other was jealous. It was clear that no matter what (y/n) would always choose Robb. Death couldn’t truly part the two. Till the end of her days, (y/n) would belong to Robb. Despite his feelings for her, Jon would never try to be her lover. It was a sin. A sin that tempted him with each passing day. He couldn’t though. Not only because it was wrong but also because (y/n) was so morose and sad. He couldn’t do that to her. What he could do was try and help her as a brother. What she needed most was her family.   
  
  
  
*   
  
  
  


Snow fluttered down, decorating your hair and Storm’s fur as the two of you sat facing the ancient weirwood tree. Gnarled, white roots dug deep into the earth like veins while twisted branches spread outward with red leaves. Storm nudges your shoulder in a comforting manner. 

“I bet you miss Grey Wind too. As much as I miss Robb.” Storm had lost a brother too. Just like you she had lost many of her siblings. That night of the Red Wedding Storm hadn’t been caged up like Grey Wind. She had preferred to lurk in the woods and hunt. At the smell of fresh blood she had went into action. It had been too late for Grey Wind. They had slaughtered him, beheaded him, and crammed his head on top of your dead brother’s shoulders. Your stomach still twisted in a sickening manner when you thought of that night. So much blood. You yourself had been stabbed when you had seen the panic in your mother’s eyes. You thought that surely you were to die. Robb’s scream as you had fallen to the ground still rang in your ears. Your vision had grown hazy as you had struggled to focus on your brother. He didn’t even care about the arrows that struck his back as he knelt beside you crying. A figure loomed over him. 

_”The Lannisters send their regards.”_

A blade sliced at his throat and Robb’s body slumped over your’s. Before you lost all consciousness, prepared to join your brother in the after life, your mind seemed to shift and you were seeing the chaos ensue outside. You tasted blood and smelled the rancid aroma of fresh, dead, bodies with a nose that did not belong to you. 

And then you had woken up sore and weak next to a heavily bleeding Storm who no longer possessed her right eye. There had been a few arrows sticking out of her, but she was alive. Alive and viciously guarding you.   
  


Eyes cast down you feel the weight of the weirwood’s bleeding eyes on you. The memory was still so vibrant, branded in your mind. Occasionally you still felt lingering pain where you had been stabbed although the area itself had since scarred up. 

“Robb. . . Mother. . . Father. . .” Pressing down onto one knee you bow your head. “One day. One day the Lannisters and Freys will see their end just like the Boltons. I’ll make sure of it myself.” 

The crunching of snow under someone’s foot alerts you to an intruder on your brooding. You took a deep breath, that inhalation killing every emotion that had risen within you as you had remembered all the calamity that had befallen the ones you loved. You were dead inside, that was certain, but you would still maintain your father’s land; the land that had been passed down to Robb. It was your duty as a Stark. 

“Jon.” Your breath is visible in the frigid cold of Winterfell. Alongside your half-brother is his albino direwolf Ghost. Being the runt Ghost wasn’t yet the massive size of his sister but you were sure that in time he would get there. You always thought that it was ironic that Jon got the one discolored pup; him being the bastard and all. 

He stood awkwardly, still ever that timid boy from your youth, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Um. . .” Gone were his unruly curls of boyhood, now his hair was brushed back into a ponytail; a few scars embedded on his face. From the stories he had told you of when you last saw each other, Jon had been through and witnessed a lot of terrible things. His comrades stabbing him, being resurrected, even losing his wildling lover. 

You squeeze your gloved hands together. You ask him what he wanted; from the look on his face it was probably something serious. Jon had always been a serious child. So much so that you had once made it your mission to make him smile at least once a day. You always succeeded except for the occasions where your mother would shoot him obvious resentful glares when Jon happened to make eye contact with her. You and Robb kenw early on that he wasn’t your full brother. But you and your twin loved him either way. He was your brother, a Stark no matter who his mother was. It wasn’t his fault that Ned Stark had cheated on Catelyn. Although he was merely an outcome. 

Tongue darts out as he licks his lips. “(y/n). . . we should talk. . .” 

“About?” 

“(y/n), I know you’ve been through a lot. All of us have been through a lot and have changed because of it. But you’ve changed drastically. I know it’s because of Robb. . . But-” 

“There’s nothing to talk about. I am what I am now.” you look him square in the eyes. Gray against gray. You never had fully disclosed what happened exactly during the Red Wedding and the events that followed after. Everyone already knew the tale all too well. Why recount that day that you lost everything. What’s done was done. You couldn’t change anything. You couldn’t save anyone. 

“(y/n)-” 

“Drop it Jon.” 

“You can’t go on like this!” He insists and steps forward. 

Narrowing your eyes you cross your arms. “And yet I am. Leave it be Jon.” 

His gaze pleaded with you, growing soft like it always did when you were around. “I miss you (y/n). The you that went out of her way to make me smile! The you that cared so deeply about everyone and everything. Robb is dead. I know you loved him deeply! So much more than a sister should lover her twin.” 

Wide eyed you gawk, your fingers trembling at what Jon had just revealed. 

He took that as a sign to go on. “I’ve always known (y/n). The two of you were lovers. I know what it’s like to lose a lover, but to lose a soulmate. . . I can’t even begin to imagine. It’s understandable the emptiness you’re experiencing, but Robb wouldn’t want that. If he was able to talk to me right now he would demand that I do everything in my power to make you happy. He loved you (y/n). More than anything in this entire world. If he saw you like this he would do anything to bring a smile to your face. He would kill anyone to make you happy. Don’t you dare shame the love he held for you by being so cold.” 

You leapt at him like some kind of savage animal and brought him to the snow covered ground. A soft landing for him but it still rendered all the air out of him. Your hands wrapped around his throat and he gaped at you with confusion and fear. 

“Don’t you dare talk about him! You know nothing! He died because of his love for me! It was my fault. I should’ve died with him!” You growl and tighten your fingers making him choke out. “His love of me killed everyone! If it wasn’t for me. . . If it wasn’t for me. . .” 

Then it happened. 

The ice had cracked and shattered to release a flood of anguish in form of sobbing. 

You were crying. Your hands no longer strangled Jon, rather they pathetically pawed at his throat as you lean your face into his furs, howling in pain. 

Jon wraps his arms around you, pressing you flush against him. “Let it out (y/n). Let it out.” 

Everything hurt. Wail after wail left your body shaking as you clung on to Jon. Every kiss and every touch you and Robb had shared pierced into you. 

You didn’t know how long it had lasted for but Jon’s hold on you never slackened. You were spent and exhausted, slumped against Jon. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispers once you quiet down. “But it was killing me seeing you like this.” 

You croak out, throat sore “How did you know?” 

“About you and Robb? I may had stumbled across you two sharing kisses once or twice. Plus the way you two looked at each other. . .” 

Scoffing you lift your head partially. “Robb never was subtle about his feelings for me. Why didn’t you say anything? Weren’t you disgusted when you found out?”   
  
  
  
*   
  
  
  


“Weren’t you disgusted when you found out?” 

He couldn’t tell her right then and there. Tell her of his romantic feelings for her. That that was why he wasn’t entirely disgusted. 

Looking at her tear stained face and red rimmed eyes Jon knew he couldn’t do it. He was a brother first and foremost. 

“You two genuinely loved each other. That’s why. It was pure.” 

And there it was, a ghost of a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. 

The smile that Robb had died for. 

The smile that Jon would die for.


End file.
